There was a sudden realization Saturday night of Florence being a city that beckons one to have a back-up tango rose. Now, I realize most of us do not have a tango rose to begin with, and to be perfectly honest, I normally do not either. But there is a little cafe I go into where occasionally an aging dottore (doc) likes to have an impromptu tango. I can’t really tango, but you know how I love to dance, so I try to oblige. But I am humbled by the best performances involving the rotund cafe owner and the dottore in a passionate, if not awkward, tango. The two men give the look, music plays, and hilarity follows.
Late nights can be like that, thus the back-up tango rose.
My rose, a lovely pink, was purchased for me by some friendly natives at Angie’s Irish Pub. I’m sending a virtual one to Mark F. who I believe is celebrating a birthday today. And to the rest of you, go out and find your back-up tango rose and dance with abandon (even if it is just in spirit).